“No, not cows,” returned Mrs Dorothy, smiling.
“Frogs? Beetles?” suggested Rhoda.
“I do not think I am afraid of any animal, at least in this country, without it be vipers,” said Mrs Dorothy. “But—well, I dare say I am but a foolish old woman in many regards. I oft fear things which I note others not to fear at all.”
“But what sort of things, Mrs Dolly?” inquired Rhoda, who had made herself extremely comfortable with a large chair and sundry cushions.
“I will tell you of three things, my dear, of which I have always felt afraid, at the least since I came to years of discretion. And most folks are not afraid of any of them. I am afraid of getting rich. I am afraid of being married. And I am afraid of judging my neighbours.”
“Oh!” cried Rhoda, in genuine amazement. “Why, Mrs Dolly, what do you mean? As to judging one’s neighbours,—well, I suppose the Bible says something against that; but we all do it, you know.”
“We do, my dear; more’s the pity.”
“But getting rich, and being married! Oh, Mrs Dolly! Everybody wants those.”
“No, my dear, asking your pardon,” replied the old lady, in a tone of decision unusual with her. “I trust every Christian does not want to be rich, when the Lord hath given him so many warnings against it. And every man does not want to marry, nor every woman neither.”
“Well, not every man, perhaps,” admitted Rhoda; “but every woman does, Mrs Dolly.”